Ethan Frome: Alternate Ending
by MaxDark
Summary: ETHAN FROME fic. In an alternate ending, Ethan dies but Mattie survives. Read as Mattie relates the terrible memory to a mysterious man who says he knew Ethan. Alternate Ending I wrote for an English project.


_**Mattie's Finale**_

_**Lament for Ethan**_

Cold winds blew outside the window. Waning moonlight did little to help a solitary candle illuminate two figures. Then there was the sound of liquid sorrow hitting a wooden table. It was not the first, nor was it the last tear; each one falling from the eyes of a young girl. Sitting opposite her was a man with grey hair like an upturned bird nest and a face like a melting candle. The man's attention was fully on the window to avoid causing any discomfort to the female.

Eventually her sobs were now stilled more than they had been prior to that second. With only his face expressing any care to her emotions, the man spoke. An Irish accent heavily diluted by Anglophone assimilation filled the room, even dimming the sounds of the storm outside.

"What happened after the crash Ms. Silver?" Seconds passed. Mattie did not seem to move a muscle – this was broken every few seconds as she trembled from silent sobs. Then she sniffled and turned timid eyes on her companion.

"I remember cold winds – cold winds all the time – I felt cold without Ethan within my arms. I remember hearing a breath that I was sure couldn't be mine; it was the breath of a wounded creature – a dieing person. Then I knew for sure, I knew it when he called for me, saying my name with such agony that I could not resist going to him.

"The pain was terrible for me, seeing him lying on his side in the snow; His limbs splayed out with his left leg and right arm bent seventy degrees, in the wrong directions. I called his name, but then he seemed to struggle in a fit of anxiety I had never witnessed in him before. Then I realized he couldn't see me; he faced away from me. Then he cried out in pain as his struggles pressed down on his broken leg. Rushing to his side I checked everything – pulse, heart-beat, how much he breathed in – but I knew there was nothing I could do. There was no hope, and there would never be Ethan in my life again."

The man smiled but held an annoyed expression in his eyes. Mattie realized she was wasting time on her own emotions rather then the events. But just as soon as her realization came across, so did a new emotion: resolution. She wanted Ethan's final seconds to be recorded with as much love as she could put into words. It would be her gift to Ethan. A recording of the man's ending moments – a legacy to be passed down to posterity. Mattie continued her lamenting tale.

"Ethan turned to look at me; his eyes were filled with such pain I cannot describe.

" 'Mattie,' his breath was ragged, 'Are you alright? My arm is broken, I can feel it, and my leg feels like hellfire. This cannot be Heaven, there is too much pain. But it couldn't be Hell, for an angel like you wouldn't belong to Hell. So I am dieing,' as his words were spoken, he seemed to go quiet. His eyes turning to the sky; he seemed to shut down momentarily as if the world had some new grace to it, one which could only be seen in death's paralytic grip.

" 'Ethan, I'm alright. And so are you, I can get you to a doctor. We are not so far of from safety as is possible.'

"But Ethan was silent, his eyes not moving from the sky. The winds howled like flutes. The trees branches seemed to be thrown together, creating sounds like sting instruments. The very earth lamented the passing of a man who had given me so much even though he himself had little. The night seemed endless, and at the same time I wanted it to be longer – or better yet – to have not occurred. Did the world so hate this man that it would wipe his existence from the soil he had walked on for so long?

"When the night did end, the dawn heralded the arrival of a group of men. Passing by on their way, curiously enough, to the very village Ethan and I had sought to escape. I had fallen asleep, my head upon my late lover's chest. I was too sleepy to shed more tears and words of sorrow. But as a man came to help me to the wagon I broke away from his weak grip. I stumbled a few feet before falling to the ground. The snow pushed up around me as I landed.

" 'And Ethan; Ethan too,' I said – with such a timid tone it could have been an inquiry, but it held an underlying demanding tone that made some of the men shake their heads in pity. But soon they must have come to realize that I was not going to be moved, and two younger men went and lifted the body to take it to the wagon. I was horrified to find the body did not go limp, whether from post-death paralysis or from freezing during the night. I forced myself to concentrate on Ethan's face, not wanting to again witness the sight of his body in its grotesque pose."

Another teardrop hit the table, glistening in the candle light.

"And is that it, Ms. Silver? Is that all?" The man asked, moving a finger to push is glasses up his nose as he did.

"No, no it isn't. I have more I could tell, but can't. These memories will always haunt me. I cannot go on. I am sorry."

"It is alright." The man checked his watch and then the window; the storm had subsided. "I believe it is time I went, I will contact you tomorrow morning. Farewell Miss Silver."

"Wait." The man paused with his hand on the door knob. "How did you know Ethan?" The man whispered something almost inaudible before he was gone from the room, his form swiftly disappearing out the door. His words rang through Mattie's head before it managed to make a hit in her mind. She gasped as she remembered the man saying those last words.

" 'He once called me Papa.'"

THE END


End file.
